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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663337">Carry On, Carry On</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothpandaotaku/pseuds/gothpandaotaku'>gothpandaotaku</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Broken Sam Winchester, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Episode: s15e20 Carry On Coda, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:27:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothpandaotaku/pseuds/gothpandaotaku</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Dean Winchester JR is Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester's child. Sam spends the rest of his life with a gaping hole in his chest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Carry On, Carry On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>No, I am not okay and I will never be okay again. I don't want to talk about it. I wrote this as a form of therapy I guess. But I am dead inside.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Miracle’s tail thumping against the table as she rested her head in Sam’s lap was the only sound in the bunker. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam absentmindedly pet her head. Her fur was soft and the act provided a small measure of comfort. He’d always wanted a dog, and she was very sweet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Every time he looked at her, he remembered how much Dean had loved her. Dean had never been a dog person, but there was something about Miracle that Dean had resonated with. Even going so far as to let her sleep with him in his bed and sharing food with her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The gaping hole in Sam’s chest sent a wave of agony through his body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was gone, and half of Sam was gone with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was like living with only one lung, half a heart, half a body, half a soul. Sam was bleeding out, half of his being gone, and there was nothing he could do to stop the flow of blood. All he could was lay there and bleed out agonizingly slowly, drop by drop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Every fiber of Sam’s being screamed at him to just stop the pain already and put a bullet in his head. It would be so easy, so quick and painless. He’d lost count of the times he’d laid on Dean’s bed with his gun in his lap, just aching to pull the trigger. God, he wanted it. He wanted it so bad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he’d promised Dean, and he’d never been good at denying his brother anything he wanted when he looked at him with those intense green eyes. He would die for Dean, go to hell for Dean, rip his heart and soul out of his body and offer it to Dean on a silver platter. He would do literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him. But living?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That may be the hardest thing he’s ever done. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two weeks after Dean’s death, Sam learned he was pregnant with Dean’s child. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he stared at the positive pregnancy test in his hand, something inside of him snapped, and he laughed for the first time in two weeks. It was an unhinged, painful thing, but he couldn’t stop, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of fucking course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he would get pregnant now, when Dean was dead. Winchester luck never failed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was dead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His laughter quickly turned to sobs, sobs that shook his entire body with the force of them. For hours he lay on the bathroom floor sobbing, and when his tears ran dry he simply did not have the strength to lift himself off the floor. He wanted to die. He just wanted to lay there and die. He would have no problems doing that, if Miracle hadn’t curled up against him and laid her head on his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach, where Dean’s child was growing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last piece he had of Dean. Dean’s final gift to him. If Sam could not live for Dean, and certainly not for himself- and he knew, despite what he had promised, that one day it would all become too much and he would give into the temptation of a bullet- perhaps he could live for this child. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam’s pregnancy was long and slow. With only Miracle for company, it was also lonely. Sometimes Sam felt crushed under the weight of his loneliness. Dean, gone. Cas, gone. Jack, gone. Bobby, long gone. Only a dog, a promise, and his unborn child kept him stitched together and from putting a bullet in his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As if he could sense Sam’s wavering, every time Sam caught himself staring at Dean’s gun just a little too long, the child growing inside him gave a firm kick. It made Sam smile, just a little. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean Winchester was born on a sunny spring day. The kind of day Dean had loved, windows of the Impala rolled down and the heat on high, cruising down the highway with Led Zeppelin playing.  He had a full head of curly chocolate brown hair and soft brown eyes just like John Winchester. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he held Dean in his arms for the first time, color bled back into his life. He no longer saw in shades of dull grey; he could see all the colors of the rainbow reflected in Dean’s big brown eyes. Suddenly, everything made so much sense. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>was what he had been holding on for, </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he had to keep on living to raise this child. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t easy, god no. Never, ever easy. Raising Dean alone was the hardest thing he’d ever done. He was still precariously stitched together, a cobbled together entity that was missing half of its pieces, never to be whole again. Every minute of every day he worried how he was going to fuck his son up, and every minutes of every day he still longed to follow his brother. How could he, broken as he was, ever raise a child that Dean would be proud of?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, somehow, he did. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dean, his baby boy, was the kindest, strongest, smartest, bravest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>person Sam ever knew. He was better than Sam and Dean put together, and Sam would never stop marveling at him. He had Sam’s love of learning, Dean’s cocky grin and charm, and John Winchester’s stubborness. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam stumbled through the rest of his life. He never, ever stopped aching for his brother. Even with his son, the gaping hole in his chest was never filled. It was more like his chest grew in size to hold his son in his heart, but the gaping hole still remained. He was still half a person.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Whenever it got to be too much, which was way more often than he’d like to admit, he would sit in the Impala and talk to his brother. Sam would tell him about his day, pop culture events like movies (because he knew how much Dean loved them), how much he missed him, but mostly about their son.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he thought about how good a father Dean would have been, how much he would have loved their son, Sam broke down so bad he passed out in the Impala. It scared the shit out of his son, so he tried (and ultimately failed) to not think about it again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the age of sixty-three Sam was diagnosed with liver cancer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of being scared, angry, or in shock like when most cancer patients were first diagnosed, his shoulders slumped in relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing he did after receiving his diagnosis was to stumble to the Impala and tell Dean, his brother, his partner, his only, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll be there soon.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>While Sam resisted the temptation of a bullet all those years, he had no desire to prolong his life and refused to seek any treatment. He spent his final two years on Earth in the comfort of his home with his son by his side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just like when he was still a baby in Sam’s stomach, Dean could sense when Sam’s aching for his brother became too much. When he was a baby, he would tell Sam </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s okay” </span>
  </em>
  <span>by kicking him, reminding him that he still had something to live for. This time, with tears in his eyes, he told Sam “It’s okay, Dad,” reminding him of what he had been waiting for all along. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam Winchester breathed his last breath at eleven PM on a snowy winter night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a light, a brilliant warmth, and suddenly he was standing on a bridge and there was a familiar figure in front of him saying “Heya Sammy” and he was finally, finally whole again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really hope it was clear which Dean I was speaking of at any moment lol, I just refused to call him Dean JR in the fic cause I can't imagine that. I really really hope you enjoyed this, and by enjoyed I mean cried. I did. Follow me on twitter @gothpandaotaku and subscribe to me here for more depressing wincest contect. Reviews give me the will to live. Thank you &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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